


Proposal

by lrose20



Series: The Holmes Family [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, How Sherlock proposed to John, M/M, Proposals, cuteness, written pre season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lrose20/pseuds/lrose20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's daughter Elena learns how John proposed to Sherlock. All the fluff plus John's sister being nosy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposal

“And now he’s going to the loo. Oh, for God’s sake, why do you need a magazine to go to the bathroom?” Sherlock Holmes scowled, lowering the binoculars.   
“Father, maybe I should take a turn?” Elena suggested mildly, raising an eyebrow.   
“I’m fine,” Sherlock snapped. “Ugh, this is boring. What type of hit man spends a night in?”  
“Well, since we’re here, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”  
“Mm?” Sherlock stretched out his legs. “Very well. There’s nothing better to do.”   
Elena sat up slightly, then leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “How’d you and Dad get married?” Sherlock stared at her, his expression blank. Then, “Really, Elena, you’re supposed to be intelligent. I would have assumed you knew how marriage works-”

“No, no,” Elena cut in, glaring at her father. “I mean, how did you two get engaged? How did the proposal go? C’mon, we’re going to be here all night. Tell me the story, the whole story.”   
Sherlock sighed a long suffering sigh. “I had hoped we’d never have to do this.”  
“Do what?”  
“The sappy, sentimental stories.”   
“You’re sentimental with Dad,” Elena pointed out.   
“That’s completely different,” Sherlock retorted stiffly.   
“C’mon, please? Or we can just sit here and be bored.”  
“Fine...It was my birthday. Stupid day, don’t know why anyone celebrates it.”

“Happy Birthday,” John said, smiling ever so slightly, holding out a small box in wrapping paper. Sherlock scowled, glaring down at his...whatever John was now.   
“You’ve been talking to my brother again,” he said, and John nodded proudly.  
“Yep. Seeing as a certain someone wouldn’t tell me when his birthday is.”

“That’s because it’s a pointless holiday. I appreciate the effort, John, but I do not care for nor want presents.”  
“You’ll like this, trust me,” John insisted, putting the box into Sherlock’s hands. He smiled slightly again, and walked down the hall, leaving Sherlock standing there with the unwanted gift. Sherlock examined the box; it was wrapped in simple blue wrapping paper with a small silver ribbon tied around it. Arching a brow, he carefully unwrapped the box, and a small piece of paper fluttered out of it, falling to the ground. Upon picking it up, Sherlock turned it over to recognize John’s handwriting, neater than usual. Written in black ink were the words:  
If convenient, say yes. If inconvenient, say yes anyway. 

Sherlock’s brow furrowed, still not comprehending. Annoyed that something was not instantly occurring to him, he set the paper down, and pulled the box open. And then he understood; sitting in the box was a simple silver ring, decorated with very small knots. 

John hadn’t heard a word from Sherlock for a good ten minutes, which wasn’t really that unusual, had Sherlock been on a case. But the consulting detective was completely and utterly caseless, and the silence was worrisome. John had just been about to turn and check on him, when he felt someone behind him.  
“I found a quite convincing argument in that present you gave me. And I find that I cannot argue with it.”  
Fighting back a grin, John turned to see Sherlock’s brow arched, his hand raised to display the silver ring that sat upon his finger.   
“I’m pleased I could convince you, Mr. Holmes,” John replied, his lips twitching. He stood up on tip toe and kissed Sherlock’s cheek.

“That’s so sweet!” Elena interrupted, grinning broadly.   
“Indeed, it was,” Sherlock mused, twisting the ring on his finger unconsciously. “For about five seconds.”

No sooner had John finished kissing Sherlock, then the door to their flat burst open, and a voice cried, “John, I’m so happy!” John flushed a brilliant shade of pink as his sister, Harriet Watson, raced into the room, grinning like the Chesire Cat.   
“Hello, Harry,” he grumbled. “Please, make yourself at home,” he added sarcastically. Harriet ignored him, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and squealing in delight.   
“Oh, it’s beautiful! I’m so happy you’ve finally chosen a man!”  
“Harry,” John tried to cut in, his eyes narrowed.  
“Happy you approve, Miss Watson,” Sherlock said dryly. “Were you pressing your ear to the door the entire time?”  
“Well, not just me.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and John groaned.  
“Oh, God, don’t tell me-.”  
“So glad I could help, John,” came a smug voice from the hallway. Standing behind Sherlock was, to no one’s surprise, Mycroft Holmes, accompanied by his ever uninterested assistant Anthea.   
“Why did I ever think this would be a quiet moment for Sherlock and I?” John said, mostly to himself. “Harry, how did you even know about this?” he demanded.  
“Mycroft told me,” Harriet replied cheerfully, practically bouncing with excitement.   
“I believe we have reached the terrifying moment when our siblings begin conspiring,” Sherlock said to John, finally freeing his hand.   
“Hmph, insult me all you want, Sherlock, but I know you’re secretly grateful. And I’m secretly happy for you.”  
Sherlock’s cheeks turned to a very rare tinge and he cleared his throat, muttering, “Yes, well...I assume you won’t mind paying for the wedding, then.”  
“Hang on, are you implying that I’m the bride?” John asked indignantly.

Sherlock smirked ever so slightly. “Well, I’m certainly not the bride.”  
“Which makes me the groom’s side,” Mycroft said with faint amusement. “Never fear, Doctor Watson, Anthea will take care of everything.”  
“Mhmm,” was the only reply he received, as the woman typed something else into her blackberry.   
“Now I’m completely reassured,” John muttered, and Sherlock actually laughed.


End file.
